Child of Mine
by Targaryen Princess
Summary: It is 10 years after Frerin's death and Thorin has had to endure cruel pain and misery from his mother and father. But one meeting with his father suddenly gives Thorin the courage to ask his father one vital question. But with Thrain drunk and stubborn, how will he react when a young dwarf he no longer considers a son, asks him for forgiveness.


**Hey guys!**

**So this is a one shot about Thorin's relationship with his father basically. I came up with this when reviewing my other story _Durin's Sons New Beginnings _and came across the scene where Thorin and Fili are in the dungeons and Thorin is talking to Fili about his life after Frerin was killed (If you read it you'll know what I'm talking about) It's brief and I kind of wanted to elaborate a little on it, so I decided to make a one shot that could potentially explain Thorin's personality due to unfortunate experiences happening to him when he was younger. **

**This is total fan-fiction :) Thrain is King, Erebor was not taken at this stage, so the scene is set in Erebor. However, one change that was made from my _Durin's Sons New Beginnings_ story is that Thorin's mother is alive in this one-shot. In my _Durin's Sons _story, when Thorin was talking about his relationship with his parent's I said that his mother died shortly after Frerin's death. I minor change but doesn't affect this in any way. **

**Anyway, enough with the babbling, I hope you enjoy this short piece and let me know what you think of it :) **

**Thanks for reading :) x**

* * *

It was the tenth anniversary of Frerin's death and Thorin usually assigned himself to stay well clear of his father. But not this day.

Thrain had requested that Thorin join him in the main hall. To say it was a request is just being polite, Thorin knew he had no choice in the matter but to join his father and to be quite honest, he was dreading it. He had just turned 30 years old and the thought of being in the same room with his father was terrifying. He felt like a young scared little boy in his father's presence.

He sat on his bed and stared at the floor; waiting. His heart was in his throat, a cold sweat began to gleam in his hands and he felt completely and utterly sick.

Life after Frerin's death had been miserable for Thorin. No longer were the days where laughter could be heard ringing throughout the halls, no longer were the days when his father would embrace him, no longer were the days when his mother looked upon him with a loving, affectionate gaze. All he had to show for his parent's love was bruised skin and broken bones kindly given to him by his father.

Thrain had changed dramatically when Frerin was killed. A darkness lingered over him which could clearly be seen in his deep blue eyes that stared like cold stones in Thorin's direction. His mother's gaze no longer cast off a warm glow but a cold sting, just like his father's. His parent's changed only towards him however they still seemed to be the same loving doting parent's to Dis.

But that was expected, little Dis had done nothing wrong.

He remembered the first time his father struck him and even still, the shock of it took his breath from his lungs. It had not been long after Frerin's funeral when the King; drunk, pained and angry, struck his eldest and only living son to the ground. Usually a mother would have reacted by running to her child to protect them or fight off the beast who hurt their young, but not his mother; she stood unmoving with a goblet in her hand and just turned away and walked out of the hall.

The hall stilled and silenced at once. Onlookers whispered in awe to each other and the King glared down, unruffled by his actions or reactions of the crowd.

"_Leave boy_" was all he said in a fierce, threatening tone and he downed the rest of his ale.

Thorin remembered the long and lonely trail to his chambers. He remembered how he tried so hard not to cry.

"_A man who shows his weaknesses is no man at all. If you cry in front of me again, I will beat that weakness out of you." _

His father's terrifying words rang in his ear and loomed tauntingly in his memory.

He remembered how the tears fell rapidly down his face and how he ran the rest of his journey to his room so no one would see how weak he was. Then Balin knocked lightly on his door and entered slowly.

Thorin could see in his mind's eye the expression on Balin's face when his old, wise eyes rested upon him.

"_Aw laddie" _his words were soft, sympathetic and comforting. Thorin recalled how he edged away from the old dwarf, to hide his face especially his tears. But the old dwarf was persistent and rested himself gently beside Thorin on the bed. He remembered how a large hand cupped his small shoulder to console him.

"_Let me have a look Thorin" Balin spoke and inclined his head a little to see the youngster's face. _

"_I can't- The King said if I- I- he would beat me." The young Prince ended in a whisper; struggling to gather his words._

_Silence filled the room and Balin frowned in troubling thought but then he spoke. _

"_Your father may not want to see it, but that doesn't mean you have to be closed to other people; people who care about you." _

Thorin closed his eyes and remembered how Balin's words to him made him turn around slowly, as though he were surprised that there were still those who cared. He pictured Balin's face of shock, devastation and anger, all mixed into one.

_Balin reached out carefully and touched the large growing mark that coloured the cheekbone, just below Thorin's left eye. It was growing rapidly from a red, to purple to blue and his eye was slowly beginning to close over. _

_Thorin's tears continued to fall and a sense of shamefulness overwhelmed him. _

_Balin studied the young dwarf and said, "My mother was a wise old lassie in her day and I learned a great deal from her. She once told me these words that I will now pass on to you, she told me, when a man cries, it does not mean that he is inadequate or weak, it means he has just been strong for too long."_

_Young Thorin pondered on those words thoughtfully and sniffed back his tears. _

"_You may find yourself in a moment of utter devastation in years to come and if you do find yourself unable to hold it back, just remember those words and let it all out laddie. There is no shame is crying when you are in pain. My mother also told me, weeping is an opportunity to get rid of all those pains and sufferings, to make room for happier things."_

The older, yet still very young Thorin, only in his thirties; late teens in human years, sighed deeply and took a moment to be grateful that he still had Balin to go to when his troubles got too much. He also had Dwalin; a fierce best friend who would not hesitate to assassinate the King if Thorin allowed it. And he still had Dis. Dis was very much unaware of the going-on's behind closed doors when it concerned their father, mother and him. She was still very young and oblivious to the troubles and heart ache of what death brought to a home. She knew Frerin was with Aulë and that she would never see him again but other than that, she had no clue.

She was gullible; an expectation for her age and development, and thought Thorin's injuries came from hunting accidents and fierce battles. He always found himself telling her adventurous stories and lies about how he obtained his cuts and bruises and broken bones with a ghost smile and aching heart. Her little eyes would grow wide with excitement when she looked upon her _brave _older brother when listening to him.

Subconsciously, Thorin's hands began to twitch; a habit he inherited soon after Frerin's death. It usually happened whenever he was nervous, anxious, scared or uncomfortable, but he didn't notice it any more, it was a habit.

Suddenly the door knocked; a rapid hurried knock and Thorin; reluctantly stood from the bed, walked over and opened it. A guard stood before him dressed in warrior gear as though he were ready for an attack any minute. His face was like stone; no expression and no light in his eyes.

"The King is ready to see you" he said robotically and turning abruptly, he left. Thorin stood frozen in the frame of the door and stared after the guard. His heart began to race a little more and his nerves made his nauseating feeling to increase.

He closed the door behind him and followed the guard with disinclined footsteps; his head low and his eyes scanning the cracks on the ground; he did not want to make the King wait.

Finally he found himself outside the large hall doors; two guards placed on either side with their spears planted firmly on the ground, looking straight ahead on them. Their dull eyes focused and set on something much more interesting than Thorin. With one last deep breath to fill him with courage, Thorin knocked firmly on the door and entered.

The King sat ahead on a high backed chair; a table in front filled with meat, fruit and ale. Thorin noticed already how drunk his father was and he swallowed hard, knowing that this would not end well. He braced himself and stepped further in.

Thrain's cold blue eyes were already set firmly on Thorin and he watched tensely as the young dwarf made his way up the hall. It was a glare that one would give to his enemy. Thorin felt the weight of it, but kept his head down in respect; no eye contact, no gestures of any kind.

Thrain continued to dine and belched loudly when a considerable amount of ale made its way down his throat. He wiped his mouth roughly then cleaned his hands on a cloth.

"You asked to see me, Sir?" Thorin spoke; his head was still lowered and his heart was racing.

"Aye" a gruff, deep voice answered with no kindness in it.

Thorin then raised his eyes and met his father's. Thrain stood from the table and balanced himself before walking towards Thorin. The King was brawny and muscular in build. He was taller than his son and much more intimidating.

"It's been 10 years since your younger brother's murder" he stated

Thorin closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again and a dread; cold and piercing, washed over him when he saw the look on his father's face. It was like stone; yet the hate in his eyes was so noticeable Thorin was sure that even gullible little Dis would have noticed it.

"Your mother has been locked in her chambers for days now, crying, devastated, and grieving the loss of her son, our son."

_He's just drunk; he's just looking for a fight. He's angry and inconsolable when he's like this. _

Thorin's breathing started to become a little panicked and he yelled at himself in his mind not to provoke his father when he was in a state like this. But the King could be provoke if someone looked at him the wrong way; he had a temper that was feared by all and unfortunately, Thorin usually got the brunt of it.

"Are you not going to say anything? Are you just going to stand there like a statue and not say a word to express your feelings of how you were the one that brought harm and death to your brother?"

"I- Frerin's death only causes me pain- and- and guilt, fath- Sir" he almost let it slip and he could see by the look on Thrain's face, that he was aware of it too. No longer, since Frerin's death, was he allowed to address Thrain as father.

"You would do well to know your place boy."

"I do, Sir, I apologise"

"Apologies are meaningless words that only a fool says when he can think of nothing else to say."

Thrain poured himself some more ale and drank it eagerly. Thorin noticed the pinkish colour in his eyes, the redness in his cheeks and the struggled stagger in his feet as he moved. Yet even in this state, Thrain was still a formidable figure.

Thorin dropped eye contact as his father approached closer.

"You can't even look at me. Is your guilt that heavy upon your shoulders?"

"Yes" Thorin's voice was barely a whisper.

"Good, I do hope you bare this burden for the rest of your days. The pain you have caused your mother and I; you deserve to crumble under the weight of guilt for what you did."

The viciousness behind his father's words embedded deep into Thorin that he feared his weakness would show through tears. But Thrain kept digging, keep pushing and shoving the memories of what happened to Frerin in Thorin's mind that it was almost impossible to not show any emotion.

"It was an accident- I had no idea-" Thorin answered; his voice wavering but he was able to keep control.

"So you keep saying!" Thrain's face was close to his son's; Thorin could smell the strong stench of ale the King had been consuming greatly all day it had seemed.

"But it was. I would never have wanted anything to happen to Frerin. I loved him."

"You also killed him!"

"The orcs killed him" Thorin said quietly.

Thrain froze and glared so deeply into Thorin that Thorin could almost see his father ripping him to pieces in his cold stare.

"Yes, but you set the scene."

Thorin stared helplessly at his father as his words cut deeper than any dagger. His jaw clenched and unclenched and he suddenly felt an urge to make his father see. It was his only hope to redeem himself and so he took a deep breath and spoke.

"If you give me the chance to prove myself, I could make you and mother- you- you both could maybe be proud of me someday." A desperation erupted in Thorin and he stepped a little closer to his father; his eyes pained but hopeful, "Please, I- I know I could never, never replace Frerin, but I have your blood too, I am your heir and if you let me, I could prove myself to be a worthy heir and a- a worthy son, to you. All I ask is for your forgiveness and a chance."

Thrain stood silent for a moment, some would think he was deep in thought and Thorin, hopefully, thought that the King was considering his words. But a deep, hearty laugh erupted from Thrain's throat and all hope Thorin had built up in that moment vanished before his very eyes. His heart deflated, his eyes became downcast and a depression filled his whole being.

Suddenly out of nowhere a large, iron fist struck Thorin on the side of the face and he fell, crashing to the floor. His head hit the ground hard and immediately his eyes became unfocused. His heart raced and his mind whirled and for a moment he forgot where he was.

Thrain advanced and pulled his sword recklessly from its sheath and pointed the tip of the blade forcefully into Thorin's neck.

"Worthy? WORTHY? An elf would be more worthy to me than you'll ever be! You would do well to remember that boy!" Slowly, with surprise precision, Thrain slit a gash in Thorin's neck; not too deep but deep enough to bleed a healthy flow and cause scarring in future.

Thorin, still a little dazed from the blow, flinched when the blade ripped through his skin and he tried to get up. Thrain laughed all the more and brutally kicked Thorin hard in the face and the young prince fell heavily to the floor.

A yell of rage sounded throughout the hall and Thrain turned almost blithely towards the direction the yell was coming from. What he didn't expect was to be challenged head on by a young dwarf more than half his age. Fierce, muscular and sober, Dwalin planted blow after blow at the King in a rage so violent it was sure to end in death.

Thorin tried to regain himself but the kick to the face left a broken nose and a weary head. His balance was off but he was aware that Dwalin was fighting with the King.

"Dwalin! No!" he tried to shout but his words were slurred instead it was Balin who rushed in to not only save his brother but the King as well.

"Enough! ENOUGH! Dwalin, stay your sword lad!" Balin yelled at his younger brother in rage but in desperate fear. By this stage guards came swarming in and immediately tackled Dwalin to the ground. Thrain staggered back and fell drunkenly to the floor.

"Cease that bastard!"

"If you ever lay a hand on Thorin again I will make it my priority to slaughter you while you sleep!" Dwalin shouted at the King and Balin noticed the guards all look at them in bewilderment.

"Dwalin, shut up! Thrain-" Balin went over to the King and dragged him up off the floor. Thorin had managed to get on his knees and he looked on in astonishment; Dwalin had defended him and fought his father. Thorin thought how he would never have had the courage to do that.

"How dare you! Attack and threaten your King!"

"What King? All I see is a drunken fool who can't put one foot in front of the other!"

Thrain growled, his face bright red with rage. His growl was savage and he picked up his fallen sword.

"Take him away!" Balin ordered the guards to leave to protect his brother from Thrain's wrath, "Thrain, you are intoxicated, think what you are doing. Leave the sword and calm!"

"Calm? Your brother attacked me!"

"Only to protect your son!" Balin shouted back, "Too long have I watched you cause pain and suffering to Thorin. Too long have I stood back and done nothing but not now! Thrain, as a friend, as a friend who has grown up beside you, I beg you to stop treating Thorin like this."

"I will treat him as I see fit!"

"You never used to be like this. Remember those days when you loved your children? He is your _child!"_

Thrain stared at Balin darkly; his redness lingering, his eyes bloodshot and pink, his body swaying drunkenly. Then his glare turned to Thorin who was still on his knees behind them; blood pouring from his nose, neck and eye.

He slowly walked over to Thorin.

"Thrain" Balin said with warning but Thrain stopped a few feet from the younger dwarf; breathless and sweating.

Thorin stared helplessly up at his father.

"A man who cannot stick up for himself has no courage and no strength. You are weak _child_ of mine."

And at that Thrain staggered away and out of the hall leaving Thorin to stare at the spot his father had stood; a feeling of emptiness, a feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of being a failure weighing him down on top of his guilt.

Balin sighed and stared at Thorin with pity.

"Come on laddie, let's get up cleaned up."

Thorin did not cry and it was surprising to him that he felt no tears behind his eyes. The spark in his eyes died and his sense of self worth along with it.

As the years passed Thorin became a closed book to those around him. He no longer joked nor did he laugh, just a smirk or half hearted smile informed those around him that he was mildly amused. He became stern, officious and adopted a fake confidence and pride to protect himself from getting hurt. He kept himself to himself mostly and never spoke about that fateful day Frerin was killed.

For those were his memories that he was burdened to remember forever, for all his days and along with them, his father's word etched painfully, echoing viciously in his mind;

"_you deserve to crumble under the weight of guilt for what you did." _

and crumble he did.


End file.
